True Love
by XLadyoftheNightX
Summary: Frerard! Tragedy strikes the Way's and Frank's there to help Gerard out. Death, slash, and alcohol involved. Don't like, don't read! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

AN: I just had to post my Frerard story, it was begging to be read by someone other than me. I hope its acceptable for my first shot at writing Frerard fiction. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, just the plot. Oh, and none of this actually happened.

I watched as he strutted across the stage like a proud peacock. His hair was still white- blond but it had grown out longer, to about ear length. He turned back toward me and I dropped my head to look down, concentration on my guitar, lest I make the horrible mistake of messing up. Plus his gaze made me nervous.

'And without you is how I disappear.'

He came over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding the microphone between us, so both of us could sing into it, together. He removed his hand in a few moments, slowly, in a caressing way. I found myself watching him as he moved along the stage. It was strange that someone so confident and with such an air if importance on stage could actually be so timid and shy out of the limelight. Actually, he spent most of his time writing lyrics or drawing with his I-Pod on.

'Teenagers scare the living shit out of me.'

I turned my attention back to my present duty. Adrenalin levels were high, the kids in the crowd were jumping around and singing along. They followed his every move with their eyes. I smirked, thinking of how these kids saw him as a God and an Idol. He couldn't understand it. He thought that these kids shouldn't have a role model who is a recovering alcoholic and drug addict. But that just made him stronger in everyone's eyes, that he could over come it.

Teenagers was our last song of the set, as we had agreed to finish with a rush of adrenalin and a bang. The kids cheered as we exited and Mikey literally ran to get his cell phone from Kate, one of our crew whom Mikey had become close friends with. We headed toward our "chill out" room as Bob had dubbed it. I went over and opened the windows, even though it was so cold. But, we were hot from playing and I needed a smoke. Sitting down on the couch in front of the window, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He sat down next to me and I offered him one but he declined, which he never does. Something was wrong.

"What's the matter Gerard?" He shook his head and looked away, "something doesn't feel right." And his feelings were almost never wrong. The door opened and Mikey walked through, pale as a ghost. Gerard got to his feet and moved toward him. Mikey stared at him for a second before saying, "Dad just called, Mum's dead."

If it was possible Gerard want even paler and swayed on his feet. I jumped up and took his arm, led him over to the couch and pushed him down on it. He dropped like a dead weight. Ray and Bob sat dumbfounded.

"Dead," He whispered. Mikey nodded, "The funerals in two days in Belleville."

Two days later he was a complete wreck. We were on the way to the funeral and I was sitting beside him, watching as he nervously tapped his foot. He put his hand up to his mouth and chewed on his nails, something I'd never seen him do before. We arrived just before two. We entered together, but respectfully stood back as the brothers approached the casket together. Mikey's hand went to his mouth, a few tears running down his cheeks. I couldn't see his face but from his stiff back and posture he was tying to hold back. They turned and came back toward us. Mikey squeezed Gerard's arm then he was out the door.

Mikey looked me in the eyes and I nodded, following him out the door. I found him behind the building, his forehead resting against the wall as his hands clenched at his hair. He didn't notice me approach. I lightly touched his shoulder and he spun on me, tears brimming in his beautiful golden brown eyes. I put my arms around his waist and then he collapsed, sobbing. I held him up as best I could as I rubbed his back and made soothing noises.

Eventually he pulled back and I held a crumpled tissue out to him. He took it and turned away. "We should go back in," I told him. He swung around with a frightened look in his eyes. "I'll be with you the whole time," I assured him and the eyes were a little less wild.

We returned back into the small stuffy room as the director began. We hung near the back, seating ourselves in the row before last. I looked over about half way through to see his hand clenching in the cloth covering his thigh. I reached over and rested my hand atop it; it stilled then flipped over and squeezed mine. I squeezed back and allowed him to keep a hold of it for the duration of the funeral.

The second the funeral was over we were out of that claustrophobic room and out side. I took out my pack of cigarettes, lit two and handed one to him. He took it gratefully and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

AN: Can someone please tell me why I cannot keep my tab spacings when I copy this over? And a new chapter may take me awhile, so please bear with me!


	2. Chapter 2

That night I awoke as the hotel door opened and closed. His bed was empty. I sighed and gathered my blanket and went into the living room to settle myself on the couch to wait. Three hours later the door opened and he stumbled through. I jumped up and caught him before he hit the ground and led him to the bathroom, so he could throw up all the alcohol he had drank. I sat beside him and rubbed his back until he stumped against the toilet.

I took him to my bed, laid him down then sat myself against the headboard to caress his hair and hold him while he slept. At one point he awoke and babbled apologies while I assured him it was alright and I understood. He stopped and stared into my face for a moment before his eyes teared up and he fell into my arms and sobbed. I stroked his back and rocked him until he fell asleep again. An hour later Mikey poked his head in. I shook my head at him and he nodded and went away.

He went out the next night and I rubbed his back as he threw up again. And the next night when I found him passed out in the hallway at about five o'clock in the morning.

The next night when I heard the bedroom door open I got up and followed him. I grabbed his arm as he opened our hotel room door. He half turned toward me. "Please don't," I begged. I knew I couldn't stop him but I was darn well going to try. "Let me go Frankie," his voice was broken and brought tears to my eyes. "No," my voice cracked and then he fully turned to me. I half sobbed, a tear escaping and racing down my cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb ad caressed my cheek before pulling me against his chest and wrapping his arms around my smaller frame. I gave a broken sob and clutched his jacket like a life line.

He brought me back to our room and made me lay down on my bed, then crawled in after me. He held me to his chest and rocked from side to side as best he could in the narrow bed. Darkness soon crept in upon me and I knew no more.

!!

I woke the next morning to a wonderful smell. I climbed out of bed, groggily and made my way out of the room, rubbing my eyes. He stood in our kitchen area before the stove with a spatula in one hand and the handle of the frying pan with the other. Bob, Ray and Mikey all sat at the table eating pancakes and toast. He turned around and gave me a smile before flipping the pancake in the pan and pulling two pieces of toast from the toaster. He removed the food from the pan and put it on a plate with the toast and brought it over to me. He pressed it into my hands, then kissed me on the cheek and whispered, "Thanks for not letting me go," in my ear. I just nodded and sat down to eat with the guys. I didn't even know Gerard knew how to cook.

That night he didn't go out and he slept beside me the whole night. The next day was Friday and we had a concert to play on Sunday, so we had to be leaving. We were headed to the UK and had to catch the nine o'clock plane out. We did make it on time, after a lot of rushing around, three pots of coffee and two packs of cigarettes.

He didn't like planes or flying too well, so we sat in the last row. He got in by the window but pulled the shade shut and I sat beside him by the aisle. We were preparing for take off and he was griping the armrests so hard I thought he would actually crush them. So, I reached over and took one in mine. He seemed to relax completely at my touch and I ran thumb over the back of his hand while the plane rose off the ground.

The flight really wasn't that long by somehow he ended up nodding off on my shoulder. I let him sleep and opted on watching the movie that was currently playing. It was some random movie I had already seen so I closed my eyes too and rested my head against his and got lost in my thoughts.

He had almost gone back to his old ways, with his drinking and all. But, I had stopped him before it had gone too far. I was just glad he hadn't flung me aside and walked out that door like he had done so many times before. He had actually listened to me and that was the important thing to me: that he had listened to me. I loved Gerard and I had known for along time, even when he had been drunk or high for every show I still loved him. Even though, I was the one who usually got the privilege of watching him and cleaning him up afterward. When he was trying to stop after Japan I was the one who stayed with him, even when he was half crazed from the withdrawal. I had always been by his side. I had been strong when he wasn't and kept the band together when it had been threatening to break apart.

I was interrupted from my musings by one of the flight attendants saying over the intercom for chairs to be returned to the upright position and seat belts to be buckled. My gaze slid to the side and landed on his peaceful face. I gave him a nudge and he gave a groan, snuggling closer into my shoulder. I snickered and nudged him again. One eye opened and locked with mine. "We're landing, you need to get buckled in again," I told him and he slowly sat up with a reluctant look on his face.

I looked around as we landed for the other members of MCR. Bob and Ray sat a few seats ahead of us. Mikey on the other hand was much closer to the front of the plane, sitting beside a man in a business suit. All of them looked glad to be back. Our favorite part of being a band was the touring, seeing all out fans and the kids we were helping.

When we were allowed, we rushed off the plane, Gerard leading the way. A car was waiting for us in the parking lot and we were driven to the garage that was housing our bus. Our tour bus was our second home. We spent more than half our time in it and we had really grown together inside it, over the years.

"Home sweet home," Gerard said from beside me.

AN: Thanks to the people who reviewed the last chapter. I welcome constructive criticism! (Hint Hint)


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